


Hyakinthos

by orphan_account



Category: Classical Mythology
Genre: Yuletide 2006
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-24
Updated: 2006-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-13 07:37:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SCENE: The inviolate meadow at Orthia. The twins Artemis and Apollo meet after the death of the young Spartan prince.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hyakinthos

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oddcellist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddcellist/gifts).



> Written for oddcellist in the Yuletide 2006 Challenge.

[FRAGMENT]

 _Apollo_   


> \-- what sin can limit?  
> I'll tell you why I kissed him. I will not beg for your acquittal.  
> What would you know of kisses? He was a beautiful boy, matchless among mortals,  
> That should have been enough. I am mighty among the Gods. That should have been enough.  
> The bloom on him wilted roses; his mouth was full  
> Of all the varied notes of summer. Should I tell you  
> That his mouth was a draught fresh spring water?  
> That the shade of his brow was a tufted meadow,  
> His fresh smile cool poplars. Would you understand then?  
> You turn away as though you suffer.

 _Artemis_

> You embarrass me with your tears.

 _Apollo_

> Hyakinthos!
> 
> I watched the Eurotas slip through your fingers,  
> Felt slack and useless in the face of it, your beauty.  
> I gave him everything. You would not understand.

 _Artemis_

> For which I am thankful.  
> Sometimes I think you hold more foolish esteem for Cypris  
> than of the other child of Leto.  
> And yet all she gives you is her mocking and her merriment,  
> Laying you by the heels,  
> And saying, "There he goes, O Golden Apollo --  
> it's through no grudge of mine that his love is so ill-fated."

 _Apollo_

> I'm not as I once was.  
> I can hear that and but laugh.
> 
> Hyakinthos!

 _Artemis_

> The Goddess of Love calls me stiff-necked,  
> But I've shot her mortal lovers cooly  
> Too many times to be offended. We will always be at odds.  
> But in her clutch you shame me: I feel no pity.

 _Apollo_

> Hyakinthos!
> 
> The cool woods still ring with your footfall.  
> Was I immortal? I gave so much of myself  
> That I might have been a man...
> 
> My beloved friend! My hands curse all that I touch.

 _Artemis_

> You weep like a woman.

 _Apollo_

> He is dead. Let the Spartan women weep.  
> I mocked Eros as he greased his bow;  
> "Who are you to play with those toys, saucy child?" I jeered.  
> "Put them away and leave them for the warriors.  
> Stand by your mother and pour her her wine,  
> and listen to the chatter of women...  
> I'd show you how to pluck the string and let fly the arrow,  
> but that the gut might tear your soft fingers."
> 
> I looked into his face and was proved a witness  
> Of his red fury. "Unknit that ugly frown," was all I said,  
> "it does your pretty face disservice,"  
> and thus left laughing at his presumption.
> 
> Alas! Alas!
> 
> It was then I saw you, Daphne:  
> they were beautiful, your hands and arms,  
> your long brown hair hanging free on your shoulders  
> as you ran from me like a Venetian colt.  
> The arrow of love pricked my cool heart sorely,  
> Until all I saw was you - afire with longing,  
> wits thwarted, dumbly obstinate as the sea for you.  
> I, proud Apollo! Cold Apollo!  
> I begged of you everything.
> 
> I would have crowned the dark glory of your hair  
> in whatever you asked - ambrosia, gold, my reed-woven pipe.

 _Chorus Leader_

> She was one of our sisters.  
> Virginity was more sweet to her  
> Than all else.

 _Chorus_

> How lovely then is chastity!  
> You stalked her with crafty eyes, my Lord you.  
> Your far-wandering searchings shocked her into silence.  
> She only loved the hunt,  
> the Thessalian javelin,  
> setting the hounds on, ringing with the music of her shout...
> 
> We do not mean to offend, o God!

 _Apollo_

> I would have given her a spear with a steel point.

 _Chorus_

> She only loved pine trees,  
> and the spotted stag.

 _Apollo_

> I would have given her my hot, bleeding guts.

 _Artemis_

> Gods do not bleed, nor have rotten insides.

 _Apollo_

> I bled for her...  
> You and I, who shot many, laughing at the kill,  
> Your disgust would deepen if you saw my salt --

 _Artemis_

> Gods do not cry.

 _Chorus_

> Heavenly law forbids your tears.

 _Apollo_

> She was the first.  
> "O, Daphne," I said, "you will be mine for ever,"  
> and she was -- I kissed her bark, caressed her leaves,  
> angry and in love, bitter at Peneus, bitter at  
> everything. My laurel girl bent her head in sad stiffness,  
> and there she was -- a leafy decoration for my lyre.

 _Chorus_

> So do fall so many of your lovers, O God!

 _Artemis_

> Truly, you leave behind you  
> Ever a sea of love-lorn vegetables.
> 
> Heliotrope and laurel,  
> Acanthus and cypress; and now this iris,  
> all contrived by the cunning snares of Cypris.
> 
> Will people say, "Look how he loves his herbs!"  
> I would that they had never come to your mouth...
> 
> You polluted yourself too often. Gods should not defile their eyes  
> By watching mortal heavings and chokings  
> or suffer their last breaths.  
> Why did you hold him when he was near this?

 _Apollo_

> O Maiden of the Golden House,  
> Begrudge me all this. Too holy maiden!  
> I would defile myself a thousand times to see his face again,  
> to staunch his blood with my own two hands,  
> his struck head like a broken poppy.  
> Even as this I loved him.
> 
> You may lightly leave a long companionship,  
> but I will not forsake him -- not even his dying eyes,  
> the thick blood from his brain -- do you rejoice he died?  
> I could not let Hades have him, nor the gates of Death.  
> His fair young body -- his golden head --
> 
> Alas! Alas!
> 
> I touched your wounded body gently.
> 
>   
> Love, no God is able to escape you,  
> I who you have humbled.

 _Chorus_

> Should boys should contrive to die in your arms  
> to become men? With your prophetic eyes, could you see this?  
> We nymphs are better off, yet do not dare to  
> call you some poor wretch.  
> O forlorn God!
> 
> We thought that those in Heaven were content  
> To be hewed by the stroke of love,  
> Yielding in spirit, averting their eyes as mortals die;  
> you all submit to this...  
> Our mistress would have you leave in darkness  
> what we think ugly.
> 
> We will not say "You are like a mortal, having to endure  
> What the gods have willed so, full of love-sickness..."
> 
> Hyakinthos!  
> Alas, alas!
> 
> Even we can weep for him.

 _Chorus Leader_

> Hush now, maidens.

 _Artemis_

> Brother, was there ever anything than a sorry conclusion?  
> I hold no pity. Reserve those black looks  
> for, after you forget, some nymph who after  
> your sweetest protestations, throws you away.
> 
> Or some well-formed boy of Attica who's bewitched you  
> with his round shoulders,  
> or throwing, or both.
> 
> You were ever Cypris' fool.
> 
> We should not in the conduct of our lives  
> be so faithless --

  


[END FRAGMENT]

  



End file.
